


holding on tight and sleeping at night

by emrys (livingshitpost)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Background Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Established Relationship, Kinda, Late Night Conversations, Love, M/M, Past Character Death, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, two of em anyway. jango thinks arla's dead to tho so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24243550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingshitpost/pseuds/emrys
Summary: jango: don't you worry about me / i'll be fine if i can breathejango can't sleep. qui-gon helps.
Relationships: Jango Fett/Qui-Gon Jinn
Kudos: 6





	holding on tight and sleeping at night

Qui-Gon's breath is slow and even. He smells like sage and mint and greens; cut grass and something unidentifiably earthy. Jango sits beside him, staring blearily at the soft cotton blanket. The cream color of the woven cloth looks almost yellow in the faint warm light coming from the salt lamp in the corner of the room.

Jango tenses slightly as Qui-Gon shifts, just slightly behind and to his left. He licks his lips and tries to relax.

"You can't sleep," Qui-Gon says gently.

Jango sighs and turns to lie beside his partner. He takes the hand Qui-Gon offers him absently. It's rough and calloused, but still gentle. The taller man kisses Jango's knuckles.

"How can I help?"

Jango doesn't look at Qui-Gon's face. His gaze falls down to the thin linen shirt that covers the scar just below his ribs.

"I dunno," he whispers eventually.

Qui-Gon watches his lover carefully as he runs one hand up Jango's arm, eventually coming to stroke his prickled cheek. He presses a soft kiss to his lips.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Jango bites the inside of his lip for a moment. "Twenty-eight standard cycles," he says finally. "Since Death Watch raided my home."

Qui-Gon shifts closer to pull Jango against his chest, still holding his hand. Their legs tangle together beneath the sheets. He pours as much love and comfort as possible into their bond in the Force, and Jango relaxes slightly, tucking his head beneath the other's chin.

"I was only ten years old," he whispers into the fabric of Qui-Gon's shirt. "Vizsla beat my father in front of me. Threatened to shoot him if he didn't give up the True Mandalorians he was harboring. My mother shot one of his men in the face." He almost laughs. "They'd been raised as a Mando'ade; they weren't going down without a fight." The small smile on his lips falls. "They killed her. And my father, my sister, our strill . . . Would've killed me, too, if Jaster and his men hadn't taken me in."

Qui-Gon listens, one arm trapped between the two of them and the other securing Jango against him. He knows better than to say he's sorry, even though he _is_. Jango knows what the firm grip means, and takes his lover's condolences gratefully, without having to outwardly acknowledge the tragedy any more than he already has. He doesn't shudder or shake as he cries, but Qui-Gon holds him and strokes his short hair just the same.

He's safe in Qui-Gon's arms, he knows, just as Boba is safe in the next room with Anakin. He lets himself sleep.


End file.
